


The Last Dance

by jen3227



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 23:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13844985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jen3227/pseuds/jen3227
Summary: And when he whispers in your ear, you can feel his voice travel down your arms, your body, your legs, to your toes. That's when you shiver, blink, glance away with your cheeks blazing. That's when you get aroused, just by his voice.





	The Last Dance

**Title:** The Last Dance  
**Rating:** PG13  
**Status:** Complete

 **Summary:** And when he whispers in your ear, you can feel his voice travel down your arms, your body, your legs, to your toes. That's when you shiver, blink, glance away with your cheeks blazing. That's when you get aroused, just by his voice.

 **Word Count:** 4035  
**Beta:** Sam, my wonderful babe. Who at least loves me enough to quickly look this over for me! And Cklls, for stepping in on my last revision of this :).  
**Notes:** This was written in response to the livejournal community, dmhgaprilfools, as a part of their fest in 2010! Last revision in 2017, *smooches.

**The Last Dance: One of One**

– _One night could change everything_.

Hermione nods at Draco across the library, smiling. He tips his head up, down—a greeting he gives her that she's become acquainted with over the past year. So familiar with, really, that she almost feels compelled to sit with him instead. But Ginny had asked to work with her before he’d had the chance to finalize their normal plans. 

"Have you seen my dress yet? The pink one, I mean.” Ginny looks to her, snapping her fingers, but Hermione does not notice. “Hermione...?" 

She turns toward Ginny too late, blushes at the calculative look she gives her, and answers before the - scheming - redhead can come to any ridiculous conclusions on her looking at Draco—her _friend_ , she wants to defend—for longer than was necessary. 

"You mean you bought two?" asks Hermione, turning back to her book. 

"Of course," Ginny confirms, facing her. "Since the...since Dad's promotion, we've been able to... Well, you know! So Mum gave me extra— And I splurged! I wasn't sure which one I showed you, though... Which one was it that you've seen?" 

"The blue." _I think_. Hermione has never really been interested in that type of thing, and when she'd falsely smiled at Ginny's reflection in the mirror, repeating 'it looks good, it looks good' whenever Ginny asked, the only thing she could think of were things so far from happy, the smile had faltered only seconds later.

Like war, and how ridiculous it is that they are now worrying about _dresses_ and not more important things. Even if it is already over. The repercussions for many witches and wizards were endless, but Hogwarts students had seemingly returned to school without an iota of worry, of memories, of _nightmares_ … She was hardly dealing with it as well as she thought she was if she couldn’t even keep a - fake - smile on her face for one of her closest friends. 

Thankfully, Ginny hadn't noticed whatsoever. And Hermione had been grateful.

"Yeah," Ginny grumbles. "I didn't like that one as much. You should see the pink one."

"Sure, Ginny." Because it will appease her enough that she'll cease conversation and then hopefully go on to forget that she mentioned it.

Silence. 

And then the question. "What's wrong, Hermione? Not even during our study groups are you this quiet." With a valid reason. 

She glances to Draco, hesitant to bring up this topic anywhere near him. Draco had asked her months before, letting it drop when she said not to ever ask at all, and hadn't ventured back as to why he frequently found her crying or in a bad mood. She'd been thankful, but it's the end of the year and she's so fed up with Ron and his little... _girlfriend_...that she's drawn to finally figuring out her problems. But...

Hermione doesn't want to bring it up, so tedious that it is. Stupid little girl problems that no one ever wants to hear about. Especially from one Hermione Granger. _Ron. It's Ron, Ginny. And I just can't– I can't stop thinking of him and Lavender, after everything we've been through... It's so hard seeing it._ Because she can't even believe it herself – that after prospering through the war, surviving the brutal and awful consequences it had, she would only worry about Ron.

About _Ron_ , a goofy redhead.

Like a foolish, immature thirteen-year-old with nothing better to do than lust after her best friend.

So instead she says what comes to mind, and what would make most sense coming from such a studious person: ”I’m just worried about my N.E.W.T.s." 

Which is also true. They were scheduled weeks ago, and she has to sit them next week. Six days from _now_ , and all Ginny wants to talk about is the Leaving Ball. What her dress colour is. What colour tie Harry is going to wear. Everything she basically doesn't really care about.

She needs to study instead and not worry about the _little girl things_.

"You're at least coming to the dance, right? Harry said you were...last week, though. And... Well, Hermione—” Ginny blinks, obviously hesitant to say what she wants to, "—you've never been particularly happy going to these types of things."

Hermione nods her head, understanding. She'd fussed for hours before the Yule Ball in fourth year before Viktor had asked her. "It's the Leaving Ball, Gin. Of course I'm going." 

"Good." 

She doesn't want to have to deal with seeing Ron and Lavender together, deal with having Ginny and Harry attached constantly, but she will go to the Ball just as she said she would. As Neville's date.

 _Friend_ date, he had specified. 

Hermione returned her eyes to the book, smiling at the thought. Neville had stuttered and hesitated over the sole sentence, but she'd grinned and nodded to cut off his embarrassment. She'd been over the moon that she didn't have to show up by herself, solely for the fact that she was a Prefect and that, had Neville not asked her, she was obligated to go, obviously alone, and Ron would bring a date, unintentionally but nevertheless rubbing it in—

"Does this look right?"

She isn't nearly as surprised by his voice as she is by the notebook that he slides on top of her book. Just a bunch of numbers, she sees.

"Arithmancy?" Hermione asks, grabbing the corner and bringing it closer so she could inspect it. 

"Yeah." Draco sighs, sitting in the seat beside her. "I've tried at least three times." Which was obvious: scratched out numbers and equations in every little space of previous nothing. "Hullo, Weasley."

Hermione looks up, smiling at Ginny. The redhead still had her suspicions about Draco. Hermione had told the blond a few weeks back, and though he still acted hostile toward her, it was enough to show the difference in him between now and a few years ago. Hermione believed him to be more humane than most, but his past façade isn't entirely forgotten at Hogwarts given he still acted the same.

Ginny glances toward him, uncomfortable. “Malfoy.”

“You’ve switched up your decimals. Move them four places instead of two, and then divide by three point two to get your answer.” Because she needed to break Ginny's awkward silence.

Draco turns back to her. “Bloody hell,” he swore, grabbing the notebook from her hand. “Thanks, Granger. I guess I’ll see you both tonight.”

He gets up from his seat, and Hermione nods at him before he turns around and retreats back to his earlier spot.

 _Ah… the Ball…_ Which was soon.

She just hopes it won’t be as horrible as she assumes it will be with all the couples in attendance and, surely, just out to make a scene.

\---

“You look beautiful.” Harry’s voice is more than a little husky for her to handle, so she steps further away from Ginny as Harry envelopes her in a hug. Ginny’s glowing, and Hermione rolls her eyes before looking at Harry expectantly when they come out of the embrace.

“Oh, uh, you too, Hermione.”

Hermione laughs dryly, pulling her bangs behind her ear. “Thanks.”

And an already interesting start to what is expected to be such a _great_ evening.

\---

Lavender glares at her when she steps out of the Great Hall with Ron. He had wanted to go searching for the other Gryffindor, but had pleaded for Hermione to come with him for some nonsensical reason about it being _dark_.

She blinks, hardens her stare a little, and lingers even when Lavender blatantly makes it obvious she doesn’t want Hermione there.

Lavender had always been selfish in that regard, and when Hermione squares her shoulder, it just shows that much more when she huffs haughtily as they all walk back to the Great Hall.

Because she will always be _his_ best friend.

And the bint deserves a little glare for her ridiculous antics.

\---

“You look happy,” Draco comments sarcastically, sitting down beside her.

“I’m always happy,” she grumbles, glancing again to Lavender and Ron dancing. A slow song’s rhythm influences the air, and her foot bobs up and down to the tempo under the table. “I just don’t get why he—”

“Stop giving a shit about him, Granger. It’s just Weasley.”

Silence. And then: "But it's not just Ron." Because he will understand that.

Draco is quiet for a moment, and when he doesn't even refute what she has just said like he normally would have, she turns toward him. He leans back in his chair, surveying her closely, like he always did to make another person uncomfortable. She fidgets in her seat a little, disconcerted, but holds her composure nicely enough that she thinks he doesn't notice. 

"So you mean he makes you feel different?”

She blinks, holds back a question of why, and answers with the truth. "Yes." 

"Yeah?" He sounds skeptical, but she chooses not to address it.

She nods, because yes, Ron makes her feel like no one else can. 

Draco leans forward, a sudden glint in his eye. A sinking feeling hits her stomach, weighing her down, because she has only seen this look very few times and it never ends well. Just another scheme of his, then. 

"So when he looks at you, you don't just see red hair, blue eyes, and whatever expression is on his face. You see _him_ , elated face and stupid, little boy grin, personality more pronounced than his appearance?"

She glances to Ron because the only image she can create is the Ron she's looking at now. He’s dancing with Lavender, smiling happily, and sadness grips her from the inside out. Their past friendship has been overshadowed by his ignorance, but Draco's suit is suddenly clouding her vision when she turns back, dark in contrast to the friendship she normally thinks about instead when she sees him. Hermione notices his pale hair a moment later, much lighter than she remembers, but his eyes are always burned into her memory, so stunning the way they are—she only realizes his outward appearance now. Like he'd demonstrated relating to Ron.

She gulps. So hard. Because that's how she sees Draco. Not Ron. _Not Ron_ , for once.

Draco leans closer, inching forward and pausing when his lips nearly touch her ear. She can feel his breath. Everywhere. She shivers but tries to conceal it as she glances again to Lavender and Ron, nervous that _he_ 'd be looking over here at the wrong time. Like now, with Draco so close. 

"And when he whispers in your ear, you can feel his voice travel down your arms, your body, your legs, to your toes. That's when you shiver, blink, glance away with your cheeks blazing. That's when you get aroused, just by his voice."

She gulps again, telling herself to move away. That yes, Ron's voice would have that ability and that she _didn't just do everything he had said she would_. Not at all. Because— Just no. No. She'd seen Draco act like this with other girls, other _women_ , but never once had any of his touches turned intimate. Never once had he whispered in her ear like this, even chosen to be this close to her—like _this_.

He keeps his head close to hers for a moment, and she wonders whether he'd seen her reaction or not. She still wills herself to move away, gathers those seconds in her mind and feels them pass her by too quickly as she sits, still as ever. Perhaps it's because she likes his body warmth, or that she likes how her eyes rest solely on his shoulder which is just in the line of her vision, tellingly muscular underneath the depths of his robes. Perhaps it's because his voice is husky along her jawbone and ear, resting in the reaches of her abdomen and, perhaps, lower. 

She gulps, shifting again in her chair. Yes. Lower. Definitely lower.

 _Strange..._

He leans back a little, then, and his expression is suddenly of anger when her eyes meet his. 

"He's nothing without you, Granger. He...he doesn't make you feel anything, like you think he does. It's obvious. So stop deluding yourself with the love you believe you have for him.”

And she has no idea what had just happened.

\-- _And one night will change everything_. 

"How would you know that?" she breathes, affronted—still against his shoulder, still as close to him. She thinks to move away now, _especially_ now, but he pulls completely back before she does.

“It’s more than obvious,” he says, glancing to the couple on the dance floor. "Prove it, then?" 

_Prove it, then_. Because she'd said that to him on numerous occasions, normally when he hadn't believed one of her stories and she'd been forced to prove the worth of whatever she had been talking about. Which made it clear that she'd have to accept. That she'd allow him to do this because... Well, that's just what they did. Last week, she'd made him prove how many people he'd stolen candy from in his earlier years, and she distantly remembers his disgruntled demeanor when he had brought the list of people and their signatures to her. 

"Fine," she agrees, lifting her chin. 

He suddenly grins widely, grabbing her wrist as he stands up. “Great!" 

And that was definitely - surely, surely, surely - not good for her. 

Hermione stands along with him, letting a laugh out as he trails her to the middle of the dance floor. Laughs because Draco had always shocked her with his actions, and this was certainly one of those times. Dancing? To prove...what, exactly?

"Whatever this is, it’s not going to work…" Hermione says, nearly trailing out at the end and losing her voice as he takes her in an embrace—right hand on her hip and his left hand clasping her own, hot skin and hot... _Draco_ against her. _Warmth_. 

He twirls her out, in, into the crook of his arm and then back out again, stopping her only a foot away from his body. He brings her back close, grinning the entire time. "Not just to prove a point," he begins, his palm and fingers stretching across her back. "But to win, of course."

She lets out a breath and blinks, staring. Win _what_?

... _her_?

Hermione shakes her head absentmindedly. No. No. Nonono.

She loves Ron. Finds Draco attractive, sure, but never had she thought about this until now. Not until he had gotten that close...

"...and the bitch Abbott bet Galleons that I couldn't win a week ago. Doesn't think I can bloody dance--"

"...what?" 

"The _dance_ , Granger. King and Queen, or some such rubbish," he mumbles, spinning her out again. "Apparently you have to have the most chemistry and--"

"Demonstrate the best posture. Yes, I remember now." She hadn't even thought of that in her haste to get ready with the half hour she'd left in her timetable just for the occasion, and thoughts of Ron with Lavender and how much she'd have to endure that completely blocked out any recognition of a _dance competition_.

"A miracle that _you_ even forgot." He smirks, once again bringing her closer and sliding his hand precariously low on her mid-back. He glances over her shoulder, breaking eye contact, and it takes her a more than a moment to remember he never normally does and to follow his line of vision. 

Ron is staring at them, mouth agape. Like...like he _cared_. 

She turns back around on an intake of breath, nearly knocking her head into Draco's shoulder. She tightens her hold on his hand and waist, moves perhaps just a bit closer, and she can only presume that Ron is angry by way Draco hadn't looked away, so she hides. _Like a thirteen-year-old girl with nothing better to do,_ her earlier thoughts repeat.

Ron is watching. _Watching_. And she doesn't know what to think about that. 

Hermione can assume Draco is still looking at Ron, telling by Draco's silence, and she musters all her strength in trying to slowly turn them around. Draco relents and she breathes out another breath, this time in relief, when he looks down at her instead. 

"You meant to do that."

"Of course I did," he confirms, almost a whisper but loud enough to be heard. She's still uncomfortable this close to him, still with the intimate touches and all, and his now deep tone makes it all the more _closer_. She shivers, blinks back confusion, and excuses it as a stray draft. Draco notices however, and pulls his hand from her back and drags it up further, bringing her nearer and into a tighter embrace. "He treats you badly."

"He doesn’t," she refutes into his shoulder, only a murmur. "Not at all."

He chuckles, which vibrates through her limbs, and she can barely hold back another tremble in her skin. Barely. 

"He is. He neglects you for her, doesn't even _notice_ , and I find you crying too often _not_ to notice. He's an ass. And he deserves to believe that you're taken and actually not there for him whenever he feels like he wants to be with you, even as just a friend.” 

Tears prick her eyes, gathering, and she gulps back something that hurts like honesty. Hurts so much, she scrunches her eyes and buries her head in Draco's suit, afraid that she'd begin to shed tears here. Ron was more than decently nice to her whenever Lavender wasn't around, creating the illusion that maybe, just maybe, he'd want to be with her, too. 

But it was for naught. And Hermione comes to that conclusion nearly every day. It was getting tiresome. 

Draco rocks her back and forth, to the tempo of the music, turning a blind eye to her tears. Like he always does. 

Like the good friend he is. 

"Just get over him. He's no good." 

For once, she is inclined to listen.

\---

She hears people drinking in the corner, shouting too loudly about the contents in vials to not be heard, and she grumbles and glares in their direction. Grumbles. Glares. At the entire Great Hall. For being alone.

Hermione watches as smiles and jokes litter everyone's faces, watches as one trips and a person helps him up, Slytherin and Hufflepuff smiling as the fallen one rights himself. She grins at that, of course, glad that some Slytherins can still find humane emotions within themselves and apply it before they leave Hogwarts.

She can see Ron and Lavender, Harry and Ginny...Draco and Pansy. Even Neville and Susan, who had met up a couple hours ago and hadn't even noticed Hermione in their wake. She sees them all. Without her, and the thought makes her just a bit sadder. 

This is precisely why she didn't want to come. 

"Don't be so sad, Hermione," Luna's voice enters her surroundings, and Hermione looks up to see her walking closer. "I know the Lamards in your ears are making you sad, but if you don't breathe in their poison, it won't affect you."

Hermione raises an eyebrow, but grins up at her regardless out of courtesy. "How come you aren't dancing?" Hermione asks, feeling less lonely when Luna sits beside her. 

"—because dancing makes you lose brain cells, of course," Draco cuts in, sidling up to the table, before Luna can reply. "Luna," he greets, smirking in her direction as she smiles in a dream-like way up at him. He turns to Hermione. "They're announcing the winners to the dance. Shuffling our feet and swinging you around probably wasn't good enough, but we still might have a chance." 

"We were _competing_ \--"

"Yes. What? You really thought I just wanted to dance with you?"

\---

When they win, Draco grins at her and turns to smirk in Hannah Abbott's direction, fully smug with his accomplishment. He is still a boy at heart, but she's seen the man inside and smiles at the inhibitions he'd apparently lost for tonight. At least he can still be carefree.

\---

Later, she exits the bathroom and pauses when she hears familiar voices. _Two_ familiar voices, talking to each other and certainly ones that hadn't got along at all.

"—win again. You're just pulling in the money, Weasley."

"I didn't _expect_ you to win, you ponce. I had every intention of paying you because I had wanted you to be right for once."

She can hear the smirk in his voice when Draco speaks next. "Just because she likes me more than you—"

"Keep your hands off her, Malfoy. I don't care that you're friends now, that she cares for you—she doesn't deserve what you've done to every girl you've had in your bed." 

"Of course she doesn't deserve that," Draco hisses. "Not after what you've done to her. In fact, I'm glad you won tonight and I found out her weaknesses. Now she's broken off you, and we can...do whatever we want now." 

_What_? 

"As if you are even close to _not_ disliking her—"

"More than that, actually. My, you have missed much since our friendship began."

"I have _not_. She's more a friend to me than she will ever be to—"

"Ron!" she rushes out, finally stepping forward and to the right, exactly where they stood. She's staring at Ron only, anger coursing through her and likely painting her cheeks red. "Leave him alone!"

"But—" He looks sheepish.

"No. From what I understand, you're still judging him after all that has happened," she implores, stepping closer to Draco as she faces Ron. "And I don't need you making it worse off for him when he's _try_ —"

"I'm _right here_. I could care less what Weasel says, so it really doesn't matter."

She tilts her head around, shocked by the admission. He'd have taken this fight years ago, and she knows he won't now, but the reality he'd grown up still hits her sometimes. Right in the face. "Fine. Just go, Ron," she says belatedly, turning back to the redhead. "Take the...money and go."

"Fine." He narrows his eyes. "But when he breaks your heart, don't come raving to me."

He leaves them in silence, and it's only moments before she rounds on Draco, a question on her lips and—

But he's staring at her and it shuts her up so fast, she makes a squeak that comes out through her nose.

Draco had been telling the truth. He likes her. It is so clear on his face in a way that only he can pull off, and she gathers a breath as she stares at him directly in the eye. Her stomach tingles, shakes, and her hands tremble as she pulls her bangs behind her ear.

It is already different between them. And she isn't as sure as she was before about it not working out—not with the way that stare makes her feel. She steps closer in the quiet, and he drags an arm out, holding her waist.

The air pulses between them. So they give in.

\-- _One night does change everything_

Fin. 

**The Challenge:** _Hogwarts era: some kind of competition, maybe an inter-house thing that culminates in a Spring Dance. Draco being thwarted by Ron. Draco and Hermione end up as partners who try to sabotage each other but end up winning the competition and end up as King and Queen of the dance._.


End file.
